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-title: Swansong
-subtitle: alternate version
-genre: verse
-
-project:
-    title: Autocento of the breakfast table
-    css: autocento
-...
-
-This poem is dry like chapped lips. \
-It is hard as teeth---hear the tapping? \
-It is the swan song of beauty, as all \
-swan songs are. Reading it, you are \
-puzzled, perhaps a little repulsed. \
-Swans do not have teeth, nor do they sing. \
-A honking over the cliff is all \
-they can do, and that they do \
-badly. You don't know where I'm going. \
-You want to tell me, You are not you. \
-You are the air the swan walks on. \
-You are the fringe of the curtain \
-that separates me from you. I say \
-that you are no longer the temple, \
-that you have been through fire \
-and are now less than ash. You are \
-the subtraction of yourself from \
-the world, the air without a swan. \
-Together, we are each other. You \
-and I have both nothing and everything \
-at once, we own the world and nothing in it.